The Collectors - Book Four: Diamonds and Sand (The Collectors Series 4) (27 page)

             
Ibrahim sat back in his chair. “For a man of your skills that should be easy.”

             
“I assisted in the fall of Gaddafi. Who will trust me? What’s left for people such as us?”

             
“Your word has always been good. You are reliable and I’m sure many feel the same as I. You are in the business of supply and demand and your world-wide contacts are still there. Go to Syria and join the rebels; they need weapons and you have the supplies.”

             
“I don't know but I must finish this job first. Then I will take a holiday. Tomorrow and don’t be late.”

***

Amadou shoved his mobile into his pocket and thought, Where in this god-forsaken place can I find suitable clothes for Bear and Petros? He glanced at his watch and then across at a man in fine white robes drinking coffee outside a cafe. The location consisted of an open frontage with half a dozen tables. Amadou approached. “A thousand pardons but I can’t help but admire your robes. Where did you purchase such finery?”

             
The overweight man with dark eyes responded in accented English. ”Why do you ask?”

             
“Can I buy them?”

             
His eyes glistened. “What price do you offer?” He lifted the robe with his right hand. “These are the finest Egyptian cotton.”

Amadou knew he could strike a
deal. “They are not for me, but for two gullible tourists. I’ll give you a fair price but I must make a small profit.”

             
For the following fifteen minutes, the men haggled.

             
Amadou smiled as they shook hands. “Your wife is with you? Perhaps I can purchase from you a burqah of similar quality?”

             
Dark eyes frowned. “You know the burqah must be of a dull colour and loose fitting so she is covered from head to toe and does not draw attention to her femininity when outdoors. Double our agreed price and I will get you her finest.”

             
“You are a man of honour, sir,” said Amadou. “I will wait with the money until you return.”

             
The man entered the white painted dwelling and retuned a few minutes later. “A clean set of my robes and a dark blue Burqah for your friends.” He paused and held out his right hand.

             
Amadou hated being ripped off but removed his wallet and placed three hundred dollar notes into the man’s palm.

             
“Your clothes.”

             
Amadou walked at speed along the street and listened to the man laughing. With rapid strides he carried his overpriced purchases to their camp.

             
“Your new clothes,” said Amadou as he entered the tent, throwing them on the rugs. “Bear, you will be a wealthy Arab. Dump those rags.” He laughed. “Petros, my friend, forgive me but you stand out in any crowd. You will be Bear’s wife and wear this.”

             
Petros pushed himself from the floor. “You can take a hike. I’m not putting that on.”

Amadou kept his voice calm. “They are murdering non
-Muslims in Benghazi. With your fair complexion and blond hair you should survive at least ten minutes. A woman in a burqah is never touched.”

“You’ll look stunning
, darling,” Bear said grinning.

Petros stared
Amadou in the eyes, holding the burqah. “Do you believe this is necessary?”

Amadou’s face remained passive. “I do.
Wear your shirt and trousers underneath so no one can see your skin.”

With a grin he
slipped it over his head. The loose fitting garment covered his frame and dragged on the ground.

“
Perfect. The best you’ve ever looked, PK. Be thankful no Arab will fancy your arse.”

“Believe me when I say you are in grave danger.”

Petros shrugged, aware that without help they might be dead by morning.

“
When the plane lands,” said Amadou, “Petros and ZZ will sit in the rear seats. Bear will occupy the middle. Until we reach my house, you do not say one word Petros. ZZ will carry your bags. Bear, you and I will walk a few paces in front. Bear will get into the car first. You, Petros, will walk to the other side and sit not touching Bear. ZZ and I will be in the front seats. Do this and we will see the sun rise.”

“
How do we get out of Libya?” asked Petros.

“I have a few thoughts but
nothing is clear-cut. In my house you will be safe. Rest, it’s going to be a long night.”

They lay back on the cushions with eyes closed.

“Will someone wake me when the food arrives,” said Bear. “I’m starving.”

Chapter Twenty

On the dust-covered landing strip three men stood waiting. One dressed as a woman and a boy. Each fixed their eyes on the Hawker Beachcraft as it approached, landed, and taxied towards them. The pilot turned the craft ready for take-off and silenced the single engine.

             
Amadou opened the cockpit door and spoke. “Why have you stopped the engine?”

             
“Hey, don’t give me grief. You wanted a plane in a hurry. My craft was ready. If I don’t refuel we’ll crash in the desert. Make a decision. So long as you can buy me a new Hawker I don’t care.”

             
Amadou frowned. “Why are you still sitting there?”

             
The pilot glanced at his watch. “If that sun sets before the fuel arrives, I stay the night.”

             
“Did you order fuel?”

             
“Do I look stupid?”

             
From a distance, the rumble of the fuel tanker’s engine drifted across the field.

             
The pilot jumped from the craft.

             
Amadou returned to the others. “Don’t worry, he will take off as soon as the tanks are full even if I have to persuade him.”

             
Forty minutes later the fuel tanker departed and the pilot strolled towards the waiting group. “You have five minutes.”

             
ZZ tossed their luggage into the hold compartment and let his eyes wander across the desert. “It has a magic of its own.”

             
“It brings death to the foolish and nothing to the wise. God gave up on this land,” said Amadou while he waited for Petros and ZZ to sit in the rear seats.

Bear
clambered into the middle double seat. Amadou scrambled into the co-pilot’s position.

The pilot turned and checked his passengers. Satisfied, the engine roared and with the brake released the plane raced along the runway. The afterglow of the sun faded
as the wheels left the ground.

***

The four soldiers staggered in a line through desert where the moon cast eerie shadows. Each man attempted to stay alert watching for trouble.

Dawn broke and t
he ruins of the ancient buildings cast long shadows across the sand.

             
“We stay in the shade until sunset,” said the first man pointing.

             
“How much water do we have?” asked another.

             
“It ran out an hour ago.”

             
“So we die in this unknown place.”

             
“I’ve been in worse.”

             
The four men stumbled into the shadow of a crumbling wall and rested. One said a silent prayer that they might survive the day. In the cool of the early morning they slept, the soft breeze piled sand against them.

***

“Benghazi in ten minutes,” said the pilot as he shook Amadou awake.

Amadou touched Bear’s shoulder
A grunt told him he was awake.

“Street fighting between
semi-legal armed militia,” said the pilot. “The Islamist groups have formed political parties. Every night revenge killings of Gaddafi supporters take place. Most nights it’s one or two but on the odd occasion whole families are shot. In the morning The New Libyan Army find the bodies riddled with bullets. I have this plane to make my living, if and when the tourists return. If they don’t my family starves.”

             
Amadou turned and in the gloom nodded to Bear, who along with the others remained silent.

             
On being contacted, the control tower gave clearance but advised not to circuit in the vicinity of the west side of the airport.

             
The pilot turned to Amadou. “Must be trouble. I never went against Gaddafi but for most of the time it was peaceful. Groups patrol the streets searching for those who supported Gaddafi or foreigners they can kill and rob. Your companions are the quietest people I’ve met in a long time.”

             
“They are from Aswan, Egypt. I’ve dragged them across the desert for the last few days. Not sure why they came to Libya. When you’ve driven across one desert,” he shrugged. “But they pay well so I do what I’m told.”

             
While he caressed the plane’s controls the pilot’s eyes alternated between the instruments and the runway. With a bump, the Hawker landed and cruised at speed towards the hanger zone. At a short distance from the hanger the plane stopped.

             
Amadou pressed a memory key on his mobile and spoke. “Meet us between hanger five and six.” He turned to face Bear. “Time to disembark, I have a car waiting.”

             
Bear grunted, opened the door and slid to the ground. ZZ jumped out and collected their baggage. Petros stood on the tarmac and stared at the mass of stars filling the sky but said nothing.

             
In the distance the sporadic discharge of weapons filled the morning air.

             
“Bear, shift your fat arse,” whispered Amadou. “I don’t want to be caught out in the open if armed thugs are on the rampage.”

“Is nowhere safe?
”

“One day.”

              The group walked at speed to the side of hanger number five. In the shadows, a US Military Hummer growled.

             
On seeing Amadou, the driver, a muscular young man, jumped from the bonnet to the ground, in his right arm he cradled an automatic rifle.

             
Amadou grabbed the man, hugged and whispered, “Hassim, these are my friends. Drive to my home and don’t stop.”

             
The bearded man laughed and slapped him on the back. “In this armour-plated beast and at full speed I’m unstoppable.” He motioned for everyone to climb into his mobile fortress.

The first rays of the sun
crept over the horizon and amplifiers throughout the city called the faithful to prayer.

             
“What are they saying?” said Bear.

             
“Allah is great,” said Amadou, as his eyes filled with unease scanned the locale. “Get into the vehicle.”

             
Hassim sped through streets where no light flickered through shuttered windows. Through the windscreen they saw armed men in the shadows. Driving hard, his hand never left the horn. He approached a slow moving line of water tankers belching black smoke. Without any hesitation, the Hummer shifted into the oncoming lane and he gunned the huge engine.

             
The tanker drivers waved as the beast overtook them.

             
Forty-five minutes later the Hummer stopped. “When you get out run straight up the stairs, the door will open before you reach the top.”

             
Bear, followed by the others, obeyed without hesitation and the door opened as he reached it.

             
A woman shrouded in black stood by the open door. Amadou charged through as she shoved it shut, turned the lock and slid the two steel bolts in place. “No point in making yourselves a target for a young man attempting to prove himself.”

             
“Bear, Petros, my partner Durrah. In English it means pearl.”

             
In an instant, she removed the robe that covered her and hugged Amadou.

             
“I thought only the husband could see his wife without the robe,” said Petros as he removed his disguise.